


love is a bad word

by witchmatron



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Slow Burn, the manorian college au you never needed or wanted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-10-11 12:04:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17446628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchmatron/pseuds/witchmatron
Summary: When Dorian and Manon met in a bar on Valentine's day, they never expected their interactions to go beyond a little bit of teasing and flirting. Fortunately, things don't always go as planned.AKA I have wanted to read a multi-chapter modern AU of these two for a very long time, so I've decided to fulfill my own wishes.





	1. Chapter 1

Dorian didn’t know what the hell he was doing in that bar on Valentine’s Day. Chaol and Aelin had pumped him up to go out and forget about Sorscha, his (now ex) girlfriend, who had dumped him the previous week. That wound still smarted after three drinks, so he decided to save his money and quit for the night. Even though Aelin and Chaol were doing admirably at attempting a ‘bro’s night’ considering they were both in committed relationships, Dorian felt kind of lame keeping them out on Valentine’s Day when he wasn’t even in a good mood.

“We can leave whenever—” he started, but Aelin stood up and slammed her drink on the table. She had a flair for the dramatic when she was drunk. And when she was not drunk.

“No!” she exclaimed, then paused, feeling the gin and tonics she’d been tossing back suddenly take effect, “we are staying out until midnight or we are officially old and sad!”

Dorian rolled his eyes, “We’re twenty-one years old, Aelin. Please relax.”

“Please go talk to a  _ giiiiiiiiiirl _ ,” Aelin crooned. 

Dorian looked to Chaol for help, but none was forthcoming, as he had reached his own alcoholic limit and was half reclined in their booth, staring dazed at the ceiling. “I’m pretty sure every girl in here is taken,” he muttered.

“I don’t think  _ she _ is,” Aelin said, pointing. Dorian swiftly pushed her arm down.

“Don’t  _ point _ ,” he hissed even as he looked to where she’d indicated. 

_Holy shit,_ he thought. The girl was leaning against the bar, the edge of a smile on her face and an eyebrow raised—clearly she’d witnessed their whole exchange. Including his slack jaw, now, because she was gorgeous. Dorian was friends with a lot of pretty people, he liked to think of himself as a pretty person, but she was by far the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her hair was bright white, her face was all sharp and lovely angles, and even though she wore a fairly modest black blouse and jeans, he could tell she had amazing curves. But it was her eyes that caught him. Could people even have eyes like that? They were gold and bright and intelligent, and he instantly wanted to be captured in them forever.

“Ooh, she’s looking at you!” Aelin exclaimed, far too loudly, and the beautiful girl’s mouth quirked in amusement.

“No, she’s looking at you because you’re a philistine. I’m going to go apologize for your bad behavior,” Dorian said, picking up Aelin’s drink and draining it, to her look of immense betrayal. 

Dorian tried to pretend that he sidled up to beautiful women in bars all the time—and truly he used to, but being in a relationship for almost a year had him a tad out of practice. Her eyes tracked him as he walked to her. 

“Sorry about my friend,” he said, “Can I buy you a drink to make up for her behavior?”

“If you’d like,” she said, and  drained her wine glass. 

“Another…?” he asked. She drank red wine (God, of course she did), but Dorian was not one for wine, and he didn’t want to guess. He didn’t want to do anything to mess up this interaction. 

“Merlot.” 

\---

Manon watched the man while he ordered her drink. She didn’t usually let men buy her drinks, but there was something about him that she liked. His face and body, for one. He was annoyingly attractive, with tan skin, dark hair, and remarkably blue eyes. She had been watching him for a quite bit this evening, actually, mostly because his table was more interesting than the booths filled with couples all over each other. She was the only person who had come alone that night, and she watched this group of three, trying at first to decide who the third wheel was, then realizing quickly that it was nobody.

He made to pass her her glass, but held it back at the last second. “Can I have your name?”

“Manon,” she said, holding out her hand for the glass, which he gave. 

“You don’t talk much, do you Manon?” he said. They were standing close, and he was considerably taller than her. His body curved toward hers to talk. She found herself wanting to arch into him _. Ugh, it’s been too long. _

Manon jutted her chin up, and made the farce of a sweet smile. “Maybe you’re just boring,” she said, batting her eyelashes. 

He laughed, a rumble that she could almost feel. “I deserved that, probably,” he said, “And it may be my male ego, speaking, but I wouldn’t say I’m boring. I  _ may _ be out of practice at picking women up at bars, however.”

She tilted her head. “Is that what you’re doing?” 

Manon could have sworn she saw him redden for a moment, but then his lazy smile was back in place. 

“It is if you want me to,” he answered. 

Manon considered this. She wasn’t averse to one night stands, in fact, that was the only relationship she’d had the pleasure of experiencing. However, she’d been feeling disillusioned with her paramours, of late, and she decided she’d hold on to the fantasy of this particular man not being selfish and underwhelming in bed. As he probably was. 

“Mm, not tonight. But you’re welcome to stay and talk if your friends allow,” she said. There, she thought. Safe territory. The pair cast a glance back at the two he came with. The man was on the phone slurring about love, and the woman was dancing to herself, and when she saw them looking, flashed a thumbs-up. 

He laughed, “Somehow, I think they’ll survive without me.”

\---

Dorian was enjoying himself, and he sent a silent thanks to Aelin for being rude and pointing Manon out. They’d gone through the usual small talk—they went to the same school (no surprise, given the size of the town), she was also a junior, she majored in chemistry—and he felt good about getting her number. She was prickly, but not mean, and it was an interesting change from the women he was used to.

Dorian was glad he hadn’t had much to drink, because he was a touchy-feely drunk, and even near sober he was finding it difficult not to touch her. A thumb tracing her jaw, a finger down her collarbone, hand at her waist… _Later_ , he told himself, _not tonight_. He wished the bar was louder so he’d have had an excuse to bend closer to her. He was ready to settle into a night of conversation when Manon put her glass back on the bar.

“Thanks for the drink,” she said, and made for the door.

Dorian was startled. It was only ten thirty, and he’d thought she was, maybe, enjoying herself. But they’d barely covered the basics and she was already leaving.  _ Shit, _ he thought miserably,  _ I’m so out of practice that I don’t even know what I’m doing wrong _ .

He went after her, and was also dimly aware that this was something that creeps did. Manon was evidently also aware of this because she spun in the parking lot and glared at him.

“Why are you following me?” she hissed.

“I’m not—not following you,” he stammered, startled by her anger, “I just...wanted to make sure you get home safely.” He realized while saying it that it was true.

She smirked. Dorian could swear her eyes glowed in the dark. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Could I get your number? Just text me or something when you get back if you don’t want me to walk with you.” Dorian said, feeling this was both a reasonable compromise and a fairly smooth way to get Manon’s number.

Her smirk turned to a predatory grin, and she was across the space between them lightning fast. For a brief and heady moment, Dorian thought that she was going to kiss him. Then his legs went out from under him with a neat sweep of her foot and her palm slammed into his chest. He stared up at her from the gravely surface of the parking lot, feeling strangely at peace for someone with the wind knocked out of him. 

She looked down at him for a moment, as if making certain he wasn’t permanently damaged. The street light made a halo around her white hair, and the irony of this comparison made him grin like a fool at her. 

“Like I said,” she murmured, “no need to worry about me.” 

Dorian let out a small sound in reply, but made no attempt to get up. She backed up, then turned around and walked away. He heard the crunch of her boots on gravel, and then the velvet sound of her laugh as she said “Happy Valentine’s Day, Dorian.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is actually my first ever attempt at writing a fic! i've been wanting to read something like this for a very long time, so i'm excited to post this.
> 
> i'm also gonna post a song with every chapter bc i'm a sucker for character playlists. today is roma fade by andrew bird


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some fun and gratuitous ~setup~ for future chapters—midterm studying and dorian meets abraxos (who is not a wyvern).

 Dorian may have been the smallest bit obsessed with Manon. Not in an outward, stalkery way. He didn’t even talk about her much—his friends just knew her as the woman who’d laid him out in the parking lot of Eyllwe, but she’d become something else in his mind. She was interesting; a ridiculously beautiful puzzle. They hadn’t spoken for long, but he replayed their conversation in his mind. The way she arched just slightly toward him, her goddamn _eyes_. He really, really needed to see her again.

But right now, he really, really needed to study for midterms. Which was why it was seven o’clock on Saturday morning and he was shuffling sleepily toward the library with his bag full of politics textbooks.

“Dorian!” a voice behind him shouted, and he grinned as the girl jogged toward him.

“Hey, Elide. Are you here for Foreign Policy?”

The shorter girl moaned and covered her face with her hands, “God, I haven’t studied at all, I’m so glad you’re here.”

Dorian winced, “I’ve barely started, so I doubt I’ll be much help.”

“Yeah, but at least you’ll be here! I’m meeting my friends but they’re both chem majors so I end up getting _so_ distracted when I study with them, and now we can distract them back.”

Dorian marveled at the amount of words coming out of Elide’s mouth at this hour. He was glad she was here too, because she’d certainly keep him awake.  

She rifled in a paper bag, and offered a large pastry. “Want one? They’re apple fritters from that place down the street. I brought a bunch. Asterin said she could literally orgasm when she eats these.”

Dorian hoped that the literal orgasm effect would not hold true for him as he took a bite. “Damn, that is really good. Thanks so much.” Meeting Elide was probably one of the nicest things to happen to him this semester. They’d been on each other’s radar for about a year, but this semester they had two classes together and ended up talking a good amount, and he sometimes went for coffee with her and her boyfriend. She was funny, but stable and always prepared with nice things like these apple fritters. Dorian was almost certain that she was lying when she said she hadn’t studied.

He held the library door open for her. It was almost deserted at this hour, though it would soon be crawling with students. She veered left and up the stairs, and he followed.

“Oh, don’t be surprised if my friends aren’t like, super warm to you right away. Their thing is being cold and sexy, so just ignore it, I promise they’re great once you get to know them. They’re cousins. Asterin’s the blonde, and Manon’s got white hair. She’s not old or anything she just—”

Dorian choked on his bite of fritter. “Who?” he tried to ask, but ended up coughing  instead while Elide whacked him enthusiastically on the back. Which is how he saw Manon Blackbeak for the second time. Still trying to clear his throat, he looked at the two girls sitting with their backs to the entrance at the large wooden table. One had blonde hair in a messy bun, and the other, had a long white braid.

“Hi guys! I found my friend Dorian on the way here. He’s also poli-sci, and this way no other fourth person will steal this seat when it gets busy, so no complaining.” Elide tossed the bag on the table. “And I brought fritters.” Asterin lunged for the bag and ripped into pastry while giving him a quick wave. Manon looked startled, and like she might start laughing.

“The one getting crumbs all over her chem notes is Asterin,” Elide said, “and the one giving you that weird look is—”

“We’ve met.” Manon says, mirth spilling to the surface of her eyes.

Asterin narrowed her eyes and looked between them, “You guys fucked, didn’t you?” she said with a full mouth.

Dorian choked for the second time that morning at the all too welcome mental image that flashed across his mind.

Manon rolled her eyes, “No, we did not.” She looked younger this morning, her golden eyes sleepy, strands are sliding out of her braid, and he could see a series of silver hoops going up the side of her left ear. Not any less drop dead gorgeous, but perhaps slightly less intimidating.

“She laid me out in a parking lot.” Dorian said.

Asterin arched an eyebrow, “That still sounds like fucking.”

“In a violent manner. All clothes were on.” Manon elaborated.

“That could still—”

Manon rolled her eyes, “For fuck’s sake.”

Elide eyed Dorian with suspicion. “Were you being gross?”

“I—” he began, not exactly sure what to say.

“He wasn’t, I had a bad week and felt like messing with him,” Manon said, then Dorian found himself pinned under her stare again, “Sorry about that.”

“It was an honor,” he said, and Manon snorted while Asterin and Elide looked furtively between them.

“Can we all stop being idiots and study for our exams?” Manon asked, crossing her arms.

\---

Manon wasn’t actually expecting to see Dorian again. After that night, she’d been almost...embarrassed. Why, she wondered, was she so against being normal that she would knock a man to the floor for offering to walk her home? She had wondered, fleetingly, what would have happened if she’d gone back and helped him up. But she hadn’t, and life went on. She figured if she hadn’t seen him in two and a half years on the same campus, she was unlikely to see him again.

Except here he was. Across from her. Looking at her. Well, not all the time. Mostly, he and Elide were taking turns guessing at terms, but every once in a while, she’d feel his gaze and would stare back into his eyes. They made her feel exposed, but to look away felt cowardly. And Manon was not a coward.

If he’d been someone else, she might worry that the next step was to start playing footsie with her, or something. But that seemed somehow beneath him, and she looked back down to her notes. She did not like that she was already ascribing some things as ‘beneath him’. _You don’t even know him,_ she reminded herself.

Though Elide liking him was a good indicator that he could be trusted. _And why do you care about that?_ He’d said he was trying to pick her up that night at the bar, but he hadn’t pushed it. Could have been a dare, a whim, anything. This was nothing ongoing that needed any thought on Manon’s part whatsoever. He was here because of Elide. This was a coincidence. There was no reason for Manon to see him or think about him again.

It had been a few hours, and the library was starting to fill. Elide got up from her seat and began doing yoga in the open space on the floor.

“Hey, what are you doing? I didn’t know we were taking breaks.” Dorian complained.

Elide grinned at him from between her legs, “Do a sun salutation with me, Dorian, it’ll make you feel better.”

Dorian grimaced, “I’ll pass,” and he looked in Manon’s direction, and she quickly dropped her gaze to the textbook in front of her. _Coward_.

A series of pops came from Elide’s back, and she let out a sigh.

“Oh wait that sounds good,” Dorian said, “I’ll do it.”

Asterin grinned, “You want your back cracked? Elide, do that thing to him.”

“Do what thing to me?”

“I’m too short, I don’t think it’ll work,” Elide said.

“Manon, you’re tall, do that thing to him!” Asterin demanded.

Dorian turned red, “Oh, uh, you don’t have to—”

“You don’t even know what it is,” Manon pointed out. “That thing” was an assisted backbend, and she decided to do it—she figured she owed him something after hitting him in the diaphragm and leaving him in a parking lot. It was not because she wanted to touch him, she told herself. She stood, and crooked her arms out to the sides. “Link up,” she said. It was strange, the sensation of him coming up behind her. She was hyper-aware of his presence. His sweatshirt-sleeved arms slid through hers.

“I’m going to bend down and uh—”

“Put her ass under your ass.” Elide supplied serenely.

“Right. And then I’ll pull you over, and you’re going to lay across my back.”

“And this definitely will not squish you?”

“It is highly unlikely.” She had done this for lots of people in mixed martial arts classes—you could be far smaller than the person you lifted and still make it work as long as you were tall enough to get their legs off the ground.

Manon did all of the above, and tugged his shoulders back. There was indeed a series of pops and a borderline indecent sounding moan from Dorian. Manon was grateful, suddenly, that none of the three could see her expression, or how red her face was.

“Shit, sorry,” he said.

Asterin and Elide laughed, and Manon took a steadying breath.  

“Just tell me when you’re stretched enough. Because I’m not doing this again,” she muttered.

When she let him down, Elide grinned. “Dooorian, I’m gonna tell your girlfriend.”

So he had a girlfriend. Maybe she didn’t feel bad about Valentine’s Day after all. Not because she liked him, obviously, but because even Manon knew that it was weird and emotionally stunted to be talking up other women on a holiday celebrating love if you were attached.

“Sorscha dumped me actually. The week before Valentine’s Day.”

Elide pointed an accusing finger at him, “You need to tell me these things so I’m not a total asshole on accident.”

Manon went back to her inorganic chem notes, absolutely not replaying his moan in her mind. He wasn’t staring at her anymore, at least. It was funny though—if he had imagined himself on top of her, that night in the bar, an assisted backbend was likely not the scenario in which it occurred.

And he didn’t have a girlfriend. Which didn’t matter.

\---

“Can we get dinner? I’m starving,” Asterin said.

Dorian looked out the window and realized it was already dark. He and Elide had made good headway, despite having a ridiculously beautiful distraction sitting across from him, and he felt fairly calm about his exam on Monday.

There was a general consensus from Manon and Elide, but Dorian kept his own mouth shut. He wasn’t really part of this group, so he’d probably just go home and microwave some leftovers.

“If you don’t mind a walk first, I’ll drive,” Manon said, “I need to let Abraxos out.”

“Who’s Abraxos?” Dorian asked, then regretted it. He did not want to know if she had a dog because he really, really loved dogs and he was already annoyingly infatuated with her considering they’d exchanged only a few words.

“My husband.” Manon deadpanned, standing and stretching.

“Her dog.” Elide whispered.

Dorian watched as they packed up their things, and felt a little lost.

Asterin raised her eyebrows, “Are you coming?” she asked.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” he said, looking over to Manon, who only shrugged.

\---

When Manon opened the door to her ground floor apartment, a short and furry projectile launched himself into the hallway, then circled so quickly between Asterin, Elide, and Dorian that he said, “I’d tell you he’s cute, but he won’t slow down enough for me to look at him.”

“He’s cute.” Elide assured him, as Manon tried to capture Abraxos with a leash. Dorian wrapped his arms around the dog when he was next in his range, and he happily immobilized himself and licked any part of Dorian he could reach. Dorian’s smile was so ridiculously content that Manon almost passed him the leash herself so he could take Abraxos. Almost.

Instead, she clipped the leash to his collar, ignoring how close she had to get to Dorian to perform that maneuver, and brought Abraxos outside.

“Hey,” Manon heard from behind her, and turned.

“You can go inside, you know,” she informed Dorian.

He ignored this, which she expected. He had gotten under her skin in a way that most men did not, and she wasn’t exactly sure what to make of him. Not a threat, obviously, but what exactly was he? _Not your problem,_ she reminded herself. Though he acted an awful lot like he wanted to be.

“What kind is he?” Dorian asked, indicated Abraxos, who’d been sniffing the same patch of grass for approximately three minutes.

“Mutt, with some terrier in him. He was a bait dog, so he had some behavioral issues. The shelter was going to put him down, so even though I don’t exactly have room for a dog, I had to take him.”

Dorian crouched and scratched Abraxos’ ears. “He doesn’t seem to have behavioral issues, he’s great. Is it other dogs?”

“Big time. And apparently bladder issues,” she said, nudging her dog lightly with her foot, “I’ve been gone all day, you must need to go.”

“It’s great that you adopted,” he said, “I wish I could, but my landlord doesn’t allow pets.”

She grinned wolfishly, “Neither did mine. You wouldn’t believe the fights we got into last year.” This is something she’s proud of, her relentless campaign to make sure Abraxos would have a home. Manon may not be a sentimentalist for her fellow man, but she would walk through hell for her dog.

“That’s amazing.” Dorian said, and Manon was caught off guard. She expected a light-hearted comment about giving him pointers. He was looking at her again with a strange intensity, something that made Manon squirm with what she saw in it. What was it with this guy and eye contact?

The sound of Abraxos’ piss hitting the sidewalk had never sounded sweeter. Manon pulled herself out of Dorian’s gaze and shook her head slightly. She walked back to the house quickly, not looking to see if he was behind her. Though she did give him a ride home after dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today's song is campus by vampire weekend because that had to be in here somewhere since it's a college au. 
> 
> also you guys should for real try assisted backbends, they are life changing. 
> 
> hope you liked, and feel free to comment, i love feedback!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things start to escalate between manon and dorian - college parties, sexual tension, novelty mugs, all the good stuff.

He irked her. Manon had seen Dorian only a handful of times in the past two months, never for very long, and every time he managed to surprise her or set her off balance. She wasn’t used to men being unpredictable.

Dorian flirted like other men, yes, but it was edged with something real, like he knew enough about her to know what to say. He got into her space enough to make her heady, but hadn’t actually touched her since that day in the library but his eyes raked over her skin in a way that made her shiver. She knew that she rattled him as well—saw how her own quips could make him redden or stammer. Manon was used to this process being unidirectional, no one ever getting to her, but this back and forth was something new. And perhaps not entirely unpleasant.

Manon found herself thinking about him far more than she should. She did not tell Asterin, although she was the closest thing Manon had to a confidant. Asterin had a warm center that she found herself lacking, and if she told Asterin she’d been thinking about any man for longer than a week, she’d get her hopes up and start talking about relationships.

As if that were ever a possibility. 

Manon’s phone buzzed, and she reached from her bed to grab it—she rarely slept so late, but finals season was wearing on her and lie-ins had become more frequent. It was Elide, to a giant group chat of people, most of whose numbers Manon didn’t recognize.

_ HEY GUUUYS! come to my place on sat, bring whoever, but bring ALCOHOL. u can literally show up at 6 if u want all i know is i’m dying and i need to DRINK! also remember to bring ur own cups bc i don’t fuck around with single use plastic _

This was followed up by a text from Asterin.

_ wanna go to elides? weve been too well behaved n studious this semester >:) _

_ Sure. My designated Elide’s House Drinking Vessel is lonely.  _

\---

Dorian felt lighter than he had in weeks—it was a warm night, his friends were bickering around him, and he was going to get blissfully shit-faced for one last night before finals next week. Chaol was pointing at the blue raspberry vodka tucked under Aelin’s arm.

“That stuff is so gross, no one likes it.”

“Good, because it’s all for me,” she said, and poked her boyfriend, Rowan, in the chest, “and for him if he wants, because he doesn’t disparage my taste.”

Rowan grimaced, “No, I really don’t want that.”

Chaol bore a jug of orange juice (“People always forget to bring mixers!”), and Dorian had a bottle of red wine. Merlot. 

Manon might be there tonight—she was friends with Elide. They’d been locked into a dance of sorts since that night. They haven’t touched yet (he chooses not to count violence or back stretching), and every time he’s seen her, it’s been a struggle to not run his fingers over her lips, collarbone, through her hair. 

Always, though, they were somewhere vaguely public and vulnerable. Tonight though… Sorrel lived in a big house with three other people, and between them they had connections through the whole university. So many people would be there that there was an anonymity to everything, not to mention that alcohol might add some extra confidence to the mix. If Manon was there, something new would happen, Dorian decided. 

_ What’s with that? You don’t even  _ like _ wine! _ Chaol had said with suspicion to Dorian when he’d emerged from the liquor store with the bottle. Dorian had just shrugged. Still, he couldn’t talk about his...feelings to his friends. They didn’t know about any of it except that first night, when they’d been too intoxicated to realize Dorian was in deeper than he appeared. It all felt strangely private, between the two of them—silly, of course, since there was no ‘two of them’ outside a few heated interactions between classes and glimpses of her across campus. Three months and this attachment was not fading. Dorian wasn’t sure he wanted it to; he liked the foreign feeling of having to chase, of being on edge for a certain person. 

The sky was only just beginning to darken when they reached Elide’s, and already people were parked out to the street. She hadn’t been joking when she said people could show up at six, evidently. 

“Damn, your friend Elide knows how to party,” Aelin muttered. None of them knew Elide beyond a passing hello, but if she wanted bodies at her party, he would bring her bodies. And Aelin and Chaol were hilarious drunks. Rowan, well, he was a package deal with Aelin, even if he wasn’t much fun.

Dorian knocked, and the door swung open almost instantly. He recognized Asterin’s face, though it was slightly loopier now than it had looked during their study session. Her hair was down, and she looked rather pretty, and her presence also gave additional him hope that Manon would be there. All these pleasant things he thought were instantly redacted when she grinned at him and said, “Oh my god, it’s the moaner!” 

Dorian cringed. 

“The  _ what _ ?” Chaol and Aelin asked at the same time, twin expressions of excitement appearing on their faces. 

Asterin leaned on the doorway, slurring her words a bit, “Sorry, I like totally forgot your name, but we were studying together a couple months ago and my friend like picked him up to do this back stretch thing and he moaned  _ so _ loud in the library,” she giggled to herself. Chaol and Aelin looked delighted.

“Who was it?” Aelin asked Asterin eagerly.

She sighed dreamily, “My cousin Manon. I love her sooooo much, she’s so pretty and smart and we do taekwondo together on Wednesday nights.”

Now Aelin and Chaol were looking at him like he’d grown an extra head. Dorian decided that perhaps Rowan wasn’t so bad after all. 

“This is parking lot girl? The really hot one?” Aelin asked, her expression telling Dorian that there would be a multitude of questions later. 

“Oh my god yeah she is really hot,” Asterin said, “I’ll tell her you said that. And what’s his name again, it starts with a D, right?” she asked Aelin, pointing to Dorian.

“It’s Dildo,” Aelin said gravely, “Dildo Havilliard.”

“It is  _ not _ —” 

But Asterin was already slinging her arm around Dorian and ushering the rest of his friends into the house. “Elide, your friend, Dildo, is here!” she shouted, far,  _ far _ too loudly.

Elide stood up from the couch, her eyes pleasantly vacant. “Don’t be silly Asterin, that’s Dorian.” 

Asterin squinted at him for a moment, “Oh yeah. Huh.”

“Wow, we’ve gotta catch up quick,” Chaol muttered, indicating the room of floppy, happy individuals. After the ‘Dildo’ incident, Dorian was rather inclined to agree. 

Elide stuck out her hands, “Let me see your cups,” she said gravely, “I love the sea turtles and you are not allowed to use plastic cups in this house.”

Aelin held up a measuring cup, Rowan a sports bottle, Chaol an empty pasta sauce jar, and Dorian his “World’s Best Grandma” mug that Aelin had gotten for him as a birthday present two years ago. Elide tapped her Cinderella patterned sippy cup against each one, and sent them on their way. 

The set their bottles on the kitchen counter alongside many, many others. Chaol mixed himself some sort of unholy cocktail with several spirits, sodas, and juices while Dorian grimaced, Aelin put her measuring cup on the counter and poured exactly three fourths a cup of blue raspberry vodka in, filling the rest with lemonade, and Rowan put a concerning amount of Jim Beam into his bottle and screwed the lid on tight. 

Dorian hung back in the kitchen after his friends entered the fray, wondering which alcohol would be most fitting to his Grandma mug. Then nearly jumped out of his skin as a voice he knew too well said, “Hello, Dorian.”

He whipped around, and no one was behind him, then saw a movement and realized that someone was sitting on the kitchen counter, tucked in the dark part behind the hood of the stove. He walked around, and found himself face to face with Manon Blackbeak, who was holding a crystal wine glass and wearing dark jeans and a red velvet tank top that clung too well to her breasts. Dorian snapped his eyes away quickly. He was taller than her, but from her position on the counter, he had tilt up slightly to look at her face. That stupidly lovely face that took his breath away every time he saw it. 

“Sorry you had to see that. My friends have atrocious taste in alcohol,” he said. 

Manon’s mouth quirked, “The measuring cup was a nice touch. And I’ll apologize for my cousin calling you a dildo, however well-intentioned.”

Dorian winced. God, Asterin was loud. 

“How’s Abraxos?” he asked.

“Having a sleepover with the twelve year old who lives upstairs, so likely in a food coma.” She sipped her drink and shifted closer to the edge of the counter, her knees perilously close to his hips. He was aggressively aware of her, could feel every inch of space thrumming between them. 

“So you’re…not planning to go home tonight?” Dorian tried not to sound like his imagination was running wild with the possibilities of what she— _ they? _ — could be doing instead.

She put her drink down and moved still closer, her knees parting slightly. It would be so easy to slide between them, put his hands on her hips, bring her mouth to his. She tilted her head, “It depends how I feel.”

Dorian swallowed, leaning forward. “And how do you feel?”

Manon put her hand on his chest, and Dorian’s heart accelerated. But she just gave him a gentle push to the side and slid off the counter. “Like I want to try that wine you brought.” Emotions warred within him—no kissing, but she’d noticed the gesture. 

Dorian watched as Manon rifled through the drawers for a corkscrew, then neatly uncorked the bottle and poured into her glass. She offered to pour into his mug, but he pulled back. “I don’t like wine,” he said. 

“So you bought this why, exactly?” 

He held her gaze, “For you.”

Manon’s expression was unreadable. After a moment, she shook her head slightly and gestured to the counter, “Take your pick.” 

Dorian chose vodka. Hopefully it could take the edge off. He’d wanted her closeness, but this was already almost too much, standing alone with her in the darkened kitchen. Now that the image was in his head from earlier, he wanted so badly to lift her onto the counter again and kiss her senseless. He exhaled and knocked back his drink as he followed Manon out into the party. 

\---

Hours later and Manon was...enjoying herself. The banter, the little flicker of warmth that slid down her when he’d said he’d brought the wine for her, even his stare had her less edgy and more curious. Curious about what it promised. She decided that tonight she’d try to sleep with him—and if it went poorly, well, the semester was nearly over and it would likely be three months or more before she saw him again. 

They were in the living room, Manon curled in an armchair and Dorian sitting on the arm, leaning over toward her. Looking at her. On the floor before them, there was a game of Spin the Bottle going, which was the other unique feature of Elide’s house parties besides the cups and the early start time. Every party had a game—Manon had played herself a few times. These games were often predictors of the night’s flings, and more than once she had gone home with whoever the bottle landed on. Tonight, she was content to watch. 

“Are you going to join?” Manon asked Dorian, looking lazily up at him.

“No, there’s only one person I want to kiss tonight and I don’t want to leave it up to chance.” 

Manon reminded herself that this was simply a line, even as she felt a flicker of warmth down her spine at his words. She felt more alone with him than she ever had, despite the room filled with people around them. Half of her wanted to get whatever this was over with so she could stop thinking about him, and the other wanted to draw it out, because this was unlike any flirtation she’d experienced. 

The first part of her ended up winning out, and she stood up, gesturing for him to follow. At this hour, the entrance to the house was nearly empty, since anyone who was going to come was already there. They stood, her back against the wall, him just in front of her. Her heart was beating fast. Manon had never initiated anything, she had never needed to—just said yes or no accordingly when someone came onto her. She forced her eyes to lock onto his. “What are you thinking,” she asked, voice hoarser than she wanted it to be, “when you look at me like that?”

“How badly I want to touch you.” Dorian said, eyes darkening. 

Manon felt the pulse of excitement in her. This was happening. “Where do you want to touch me?” she breathed, leaning closer to him. 

“Everywhere,” he breathed, “I want my mouth on your neck, my hands on your waist, your hips. I want to feel your skin bare” Manon watched as his fingers clenched, as if he was stopping himself from doing it, watched as his eyes tracked his words. “Your breasts, I want them heavy in my hands, I want your breath hot in my ear—”

Manon could feel them peaking as he spoke; wondered if he could see. His voice was rough and she could imagine his hands on her. She wanted his hands on her. 

“Then I’d kneel down in front of you, get those pants off and bury my head between your legs until you screamed my name.”

She wasn’t breathing, or she was breathing too hard. Her toes curled in her shoes, but she kept her voice steady as she asked, “And when would you kiss me?”

“After. So you could taste yourself on me.” he said, looking breathless with the thought.

“So do it then. Do all of it,” she whispered. He had looked almost out of his body, looking at her but not seeing her, until she said those words, and then his face changed slightly. He pulled back.

“I’m a little drunk,” he seemed to realize.

“So am I,” Manon said impatiently. They weren’t very drunk, weren’t sloppy drunk—they were just on the edge, tipsy, the world a tad fuzzy but not blurred. She wouldn’t regret this; she was fairly certain he wouldn’t either. 

“I need to be sober for this. To make you feel good.” 

Manon was about to say that no, he absolutely did not, when he turned and walked out the front door without another word. She stared, open mouthed after him. “Fuck,” she whispered, the heat that had built in her at his words still pulsing through her with nowhere to go. “Fuck,” she said again, louder, slumping back against the wall.

She walked back to the kitchen to grab the bottle of wine, which still had a good half left in it, and threw herself onto the couch.

“Are you okay?” asked Asterin, who, even in her haze, could tell that Manon was pissy. 

“I’m fucking fantastic,” Manon muttered, and tipped the bottle back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song for this chapter is red wine by MØ. this was lots of fun to write and i hope it was fun to read as well!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh wow obligatory modern au wedding chapter!

Dorian was pretty sure that he was an idiot. He had not been drunk enough for him to have left the party without even pinning down a later date, getting her number. He had detailed what happened to Chaol who had calmly looked at him and said, “You’re so fucking stupid,” which was about as much as he deserved. According to Aelin, Manon had been simmering for the rest of the night. 

And a month later his friends still would not let it go. “Okay,” Aelin said from the driver’s seat, “I get saving your first time with the most beautiful woman, like, in the world for when you’re sober, but the fact that you talked dirty to her and then just  _ left _ is inexcusable.”

“I know,” he groaned. He looked out the window so as not to look at Aelin’s disapproving face. “I think this is the turn.” They were going to a wedding at some lake resort in the mountains. It was for one of Aelin’s childhood friends, and Dorian had been strong-armed into was her plus-one because Rowan was busy and she didn’t know anyone at the wedding.

The lodge was beautiful, and was already bustling with wedding guests, who were helping set up for the night. Although it was a large wedding, there had evidently hadn’t been much of a rehearsal, since people were spread over the lawn putting out chairs and hanging decorations. He and Aelin brought their bags up to their room, where Dorian spread out on the bed. Aelin had promised that if he went with her, he would get the bed while she slept on the floor, and Dorian intended to enjoy it. 

Eventually, Aelin dragged him downstairs to help with set-up. They each grabbed a few folding chairs and walked them out to the lawn by the lake. Aelin stopped short halfway to the row they were being pointed toward, and Dorian looked back at her. “Dude,” she said, “Is that—?”

Dorian followed her gaze toward a figure balancing precariously on the top rung of a ladder, wrapping cloth flowers and lights onto the wires strung between trees. This particular figure had had a mass of white hair in a bun. What the hell was she doing here? How did she know any of Aelin’s friends?

“Manon?” Aelin called. The interruption nearly made Manon fall off the ladder, which was set on uneven ground and wiggled alarmingly, and she cursed. She did not turn around. 

“Please tell me it isn’t time to get dressed already,” she groaned. 

“I have literally no idea. And how do you know Vesta?” Aelin said. 

That was enough to make Manon turn, and when she saw Aelin and Dorian she scowled, managing to look menacing while fighting for her balance, the muscles in her calves clenching. Dorian tried not to give more than a cursory glance to her bare legs, though it was difficult, given that his eyes were about level with her knees. “I’m her cousin.” She was aggressively not looking at him. 

“Ooh, are you in the ceremony?” Aelin asked.

“Yeah. Bridesmaid.” Manon said, sounding none-too-happy about her position. 

“Do you need help with that ladder?” Dorian finally cut in.

Manon regarded him, looking like she was tempted to refuse, but seemed to think better of it. “That would be good.”

Aelin excused herself to set up more chairs, while Dorian held a basket of cloth flowers in one hand and steadied the ladder with the other. All while trying very hard to think of something to say to Manon, and failing to not to stare at her. This close, he was eye level to her calves, but if he looked up, he could see the curve of her ass in her shorts, and a drop of sweat making its way down her neck. He was glad the distance made him unable to reach, because when he had nothing to do but pass her flowers, his thoughts got carried away—ideas about licking the sweat from her neck, or following its trail down her spine…

“Stop looking at me. Purple.” Manon said, stretching her hand down without bending or turning toward him. 

“How do you know I’m looking at you if you’re looking that way?” Dorian asked, pressing a purple flower into her hand and watching the angle of her jaw as she tied it into the wires. Manon did not answer, which he had expected. He was being stupid, trying to get a rise out of her when all he could really do is address the root of her dislike. 

“Listen, Manon, I’m sorry about that night. I’ve been kicking myself ever since, and if there’s anything I can do…” he trailed off, because that sounded like another come-on. But what else could she possibly want from him?

“Why are you sorry? We aren’t anything to each other,” she said, words measured. 

“I mean, you seem upset with me,” he tried again.

“I’m not upset with you, Dorian. I don’t know you, and you pissed me off in one very temporary situation. I am no longer pissed off, but I am sweaty and annoyed with this conversation. Talk about something else.” Manon finally trained those golden eyes on him and spoke with preternatural calm. 

Apparently Manon did not want to talk about this either. Which was fine, he told himself. He wasn’t going to get in her pants anytime soon, but she didn’t seem like she was going to poison his slice of cake either. Dorian felt stupid and self-centered for even thinking that she would have still cared nearly a month later. 

“Okay,” he said, “what are you doing this summer?”

“Green,” she said, holding out her hand for a flower, then told him about her plans, which were to work in a chemistry lab at school. Dorian ignored the slight jump in his chest when she said this—he was assistant teaching and doing research for one of his professors, so they’d both be staying in their apartments for the summer. Maybe he’d run into her a few times. 

They talked a while longer, about mundane things—her family, why Dorian was there, Abraxos (okay, not  _ all _ mundane things), and as she was on the last flower of her section, two women who looked remarkably alike called for her.

“I have to go get dressed.” Manon said, hopping off the ladder, ignoring Dorian’s extended hand. As he watched her go, he wondered belatedly what color her dress would be. Based on the decorations, he did not think it would be in the dark tones she favored. Seeing Manon in a pastel would at least soften the blow of whatever small thing had ended between them.

 

\---

 

Manon did not like her dress. But it certainly wasn’t terrible, and she wouldn’t be sweating much in it either, as it was not particularly substantial. Just lavender silk with stringy straps that bared her whole back save a few crossing strands. It reached her feet, to preserve modesty on one end, at least. Her hair did certainly look ridiculous—it had been coaxed into “romantic waves” (according to the stylist, who Manon had glared daggers at), and there were a few intricate braids woven in with a flower hair clip. 

The ceremony had been nice, and Manon had mostly run through it on autopilot. This was her fourth time as a bridesmaid. Her cousins did not seem to share her distaste for relationships, and they kept getting married at an alarming rate. The only thing she’d been thinking of was avoiding Dorian’s eyes, which she’d felt on her the whole time. It had been unsettling, but also a little bit nice. She found herself liking the dress more for its lack of coverage, allowed herself to wonder what he thought of it. Which was stupid. But he was also stupid—she still didn’t understand what had happened that night in May, not why he had (or rather, hadn’t) done it and not why she’d been so upset. It had felt like rejection, she told herself, and that was why. She’d never been rejected before, so it felt bad. It had nothing to do with who he was, and she was certainly not hung up on him.

After photos were done, Manon removed her shoes for the last time and put them against the side of the reception tent, and sat at the main table with her cousins. Inevitably, the conversation at her turned to their love lives, and Manon remained disinterestedly silent on the subject until Lin fixed her with a catlike gaze and said, “Manon, anyone in your life we should know about?”

“As always, Abraxos is the only man in my life,” she said, taking a too-large bite of cake. She didn’t know why this should feel like a lie. There was no other man in her life. Fantasies about someone didn’t change that. One heated and unfinished encounter didn’t change that. 

Lin raised an eyebrow. “Really? Then who was that guy holding your ladder earlier who was staring at you all through the ceremony?” 

“You were maid of honor and your most important task during the ceremony was finding people who were staring at me?”

“Couldn’t help it, he was very obvious. And he’s still staring at you,” she said, grinning and waving toward another table, where Dorian presumably sat. 

“Stop that.”

“Should I text Asterin and ask for the truth?” Lin crooned.

“Absolutely not,” Manon said, getting up. “You are insufferable, and I’m going to go dance.”

“You hate dancing!” Faline pointed out.

“Shows you how much I’m enjoying this conversation,” she said, giving Lin a kiss on the head that dripped with sarcasm. 

“As long as you dance with that guy!” Edda called after her. Manon flipped her off without turning around.

 

\---

 

Manon’s back had been to Dorian for most of the ceremony, which would have been fine, except for all the skin her dress bared. And that her hair was always beautiful, even if it had pastel flower clips in it. Now, even at the dinner, her back was to him, and her cousins were clearly heckling her about something. It was interesting to see Manon with her family, which seemed to consist of very few aunts and uncles and an extremely large amount of female cousins. None of them truly looked like they belonged in lavender, but bore it with grace. The maid of honor suddenly waved at him—shit, he was staring again—and he gave a tiny finger wiggle back. The heckling must have had to do with him, which he didn’t mind on principle, but also didn’t want to give Manon any more reasons to dislike him. 

He’d spent so much of this ceremony trying to convince himself that he didn’t care, didn’t need to see her again, wasn’t upset at how things had turned out. It wasn’t working. He wanted her. He wanted to be around her, in any capacity. It was so stupid, feelings were so stupid. 

Aelin waved her palm in front of his face. “Dorian, holy shit, please just go ask her to dance so I can stop watching you pine.”

“I’m not  _ pining _ ,” he said, “and I’m going right now, as a matter of fact.”

Well, he couldn’t ask her right away, because she was dancing with one of the groomsmen, but after the song ended he did. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t for her to simply say “Okay,” and slide her hand into his. Dorian felt a little like he might explode when his fingers touched the bare skin of her back—he thought he felt her skin break out in goosebumps, but reminded himself that she was probably just cold. 

“So did Aelin break up with that tattooed guy?” Manon asked him, pulling his eyes toward hers and away from the exposed skin of her chest.

Dorian blinked, “Rowan? No, they’re still disgusting. Why do you ask?”

She shrugged, “You are her date to a wedding.”

Dorian had to laugh, “Oh god, me and Aelin would never. Well, we almost did freshman year, but… no. She’s sleeping on the floor tonight, actually.”

“How chivalrous of you,” she said, smirking. 

“Well, if I find somewhere better to sleep, she can take the bed,” he teased, dipping his head toward hers. This felt better, it was easier to tease and acknowledge the attraction as something normal and mundane, not…whatever was chewing him up inside every time he looked at her. 

Manon snorted, and didn’t reply. 

They danced three songs together in silence, her hand cool in his, his arm gradually pulling her a little bit closer until their bodies were almost flush. Dorian had just begun allowing himself to hope that she’d lean further in, maybe rest her cheek against his shoulder, when Manon pulled away. He stood still as she regarded him, his heart pounding, her eyes narrowed as if he were an equation she was trying to figure out. At last, her vision cleared. 

“406,” was all Manon said, pulling a clip out of her hair and reaching up to put it into Dorian’s before turning away. He watched as she strode to Vesta, gave her a kiss on the cheek, then grabbed a pastry from the table by the door, taking a bite as she walked out of the tent, pale hair and skin glowing in the moonlight until she faded from view. 

For a moment he was frozen— _ 406, what did that mean?— _ and then his brain caught up with him. He unpinned the clip from his hair and fastened it to his lapel, then walked numbly over to Aelin and tapped her on the shoulder. 

“You can take the bed after all—Manon Blackbeak just gave me her room number.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> filler, but it's some necessary filler to set up for some ~good stuff~ next chapter. 
> 
> i don't know why, because she's the wing leader in the books, but i truly have this vision of manon being the one who gets picked on by all her cousins, so i went with it. 
> 
> song: i want you by marian hill


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ah yes the moment we've all been waiting for

 

Manon was still in the shower when she heard the knock at her door. It made her smile to herself—she’d left the party early, it had only been eleven. She hadn’t expected him to come for another hour at least. Though the notion that he’d left only ten minutes after she had sent a little thrill through her. She’d finished rationalizing this to herself: she was not hung up on him, he was only a convenience of the moment. Weddings made her actively desire human contact (rare) and Dorian was a safe bet of someone who would want to spend the night with her. Or he would turn her on and leave, but she hoped for his sake that they were past that.

She took her time getting out of the shower, squeezing water from her hair, wiping mascara from beneath her eyes. Finally, she wrapped a towel around herself and opened the door. Dorian took her in, and the look in his eyes made heat pool in her. Still, there were things to get out of the way before they could have any fun.

“Just so we’re clear,” she said, “I want you to fuck me. And if you’d rather not, that’s fine. But if you tease me again, I will rip your balls off and nail them to the wall.”

His eyes widened for a moment, then returned to that hooded look he gave her that made her so very warm. “Understood,” he murmured, “Can I come in?” Manon stepped back to let him inside, and allowed herself the luxury of looking at him without games or pretense. Allowed herself a moment to imagine everything before it happened. It was almost sad, she thought, whatever flirtation this had been her longest—which was pathetic, perhaps—and it was ending tonight. She had never slept with men more than once, as there was too much potential for messiness. Manon did not like messiness, feelings, anything of the sort. 

He was looking back at her, not even attempting to disguise the path his eyes were taking. It was a relief to have bared herself before him in this way. It had turned them both honest. 

He slid closer to her, and put her hand to her jaw, tilting her face toward his. There was still space between them, but it was so, so small. The expansion of her inhale almost brought their torsos flush together, his lips were a hairsbreadth from hers. Manon closed her eyes and waited for him to break, which he did quite spectacularly. His kiss sent her breathless, sent her hands into his hair. His other arm was wrapping around her, pulling her against him. Her toes curled into the carpet. She’d never been kissed like this before, had never felt so desired. Of course people wanted her, but never with this intensity, never so much that she could scarcely keep up with their kisses. Never had she liked the taste of someone’s mouth so much, never had she wanted to give as good as she got when it came to kissing.

Finally they pulled back, gasping in air, and his mouth was kissing a line down her neck, suddenly almost chaste with no teeth or tongue. Manon pushed his jacket off his shoulders and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt as he advanced further down. Finally, he sucked hard at the place where her neck and shoulder met and she let out a soft moan. She felt his lips curve into a smile against her skin, and he said, “I can’t wait to hear you do that again.”

Nothing, they’d barely done anything, and already Manon already felt like putty in his hands. “Take your shirt off,” she growled, wanting to regain some control over this situation. He obliged her, and she let her eyes rake over his skin. He cocked an eyebrow at her, “Are you going to take the towel off?” 

Manon dropped it, and was bare before him. Dorian’s eyes were ravenous when he looked at her, and she moved closer to him, running her hands down his chest and brushing her mouth over his jaw. Then his hands were finally on her skin and she was set alight with the feeling of him everywhere at once: palms cool on her back, squeezing her hips, running his thumb over her nipple, flickering across her stomach.

She let out a sound of surprise when he lifted her, but soon found she enjoyed it, and crashed back into their kiss. His chest was hard against her breasts—other parts of him were also hard against her hips, and she ground into him, probably leaving a wet spot on his pants at the rate she was going. He cursed softly against her mouth, “Don’t make me drop you.”

Manon just gave him a wicked grin, and proceeded to start her own assault on his neck, a bit less gently than his, and was rewarded with a groan as she nipped at his pulse point with her teeth. 

Somehow, Dorian maneuvered them to the bed, and dropped her down on top of it. She reached up for his belt buckle, but he grabbed her hand on its way. “Not yet,” he breathed, and pressed a kiss to her palm. The gentleness of the gesture had her taken aback for a moment, but all that was forgotten as his lips found her breast. She arched into the touch, and decided that for now, for tonight, she would loosen the tight leash she kept herself on, that she’d relinquish some control. Dorian seemed to know what he was doing.  _ So, fuck it, _ she decided, and slid into sensation. 

She allowed her eyes to drift closed as she slid her fingers into his hair. His tongue swirled around her nipple, and one of his hands was kneading her other breast. Slowly, slowly, he worked his way down her torso, nipping the underside of her breast, pressing open mouthed kisses along her stomach, until she felt his breath on the inside of her thighs. No one had ever put his mouth on her down there—not that she was going to tell Dorian this—and she felt half wild with anticipation.

When his mouth touched her, she arched up, and let out a gasp. He lifted his head up, and just the image of him making eye contact with her from between her thighs was enough to make her heady. “Okay?” he asked. 

“Keep going,” she said, and nudged his shoulder with her foot. He let out a short laugh, before kissing the inside of her thigh and devouring her. Manon bit her lip and made sounds she’d never allowed herself to make before as his tongue circled her center. 

“God, you taste so good,” he groaned against her. Manon couldn’t form words anymore, just bucked her hips against his face. When his teeth nipped at her clit, she cried out and let herself go as he continued licking and sucking at her, prolonging her orgasm as she quivered beneath him. 

After a few breaths, she reached forward to pull him up to her. If this was her one night with Dorian—and she knew it would just be one night—she did not intend to waste any time, not now that she realized just how good he was in bed. He kissed her fiercely, and she enjoyed the sensation of tasting herself on his mouth as she tugged at his pants, freeing his cock, which looked painfully hard. 

“Condom?” she asked, breathless, between kisses as she stroked his length and he fumbled the rest of the way out of his pants. 

“Hold on,” he muttered, breaking contact and reaching into his pants pocket.

She took the packet from him, ripped it with her teeth, and slowly rolled it over the length of him. When she finished, she gazed up at him and lay back, waiting. 

 

\---

 

Dorian had to wonder if he was dreaming as he slid over Manon, taking her in beneath him. Her legs were spread and she was so wet for him. He had never wanted someone like this, so soon. He hoped he’d last long enough to make a good impression. Though he was fairly sure he’d already done so when he’d buried his face in her and made her moans ricochet off the hotel walls. 

“Are you waiting for something?” she said, arching toward him.

He smirked at her, trying to maintain control—just now, it seemed that she would let him. “Waiting for the magic word.”

“Absolutely not. I’ll get myself off instead,” she said, eyes narrowing.

_ Okay, nevermind, _ he thought. 

“And there they are,” he said, grinning, pressing into her. Her sarcastic expression disappeared and was replaced with fluttering lashes and an open mouth. She was so ridiculously hot, and she felt so,  _ so _ good around him. He could save control for another time, just now the two of them were both blissfully out of control.

Dorian began moving in earnest after a few slow thrusts, and soon enough Manon’s was panting, moaning, her hands clutching desperately at his back. And Dorian, well, he was seeing stars—the combination of the taste of her neck and how tightly her walls were squeezing him was sending him perilously close to his edge. He did have pride, though, and through his haze he told himself that she was coming first if he had to snap his own balls off. He went the less desperate route first, bringing his hand between their bodies and circling her clit. 

“Oh god,” she moaned, “yes, I’m close—” 

He increased his speed and nipped at her neck while trying to tune out the sounds she was making. Dorian was pretty sure that he could have come from her voice alone. When she finally contracted around him, biting down on his shoulder, he let himself go with a loud groan and collapsed with his head against her chest. They lay breathing together for a long moment, her fingers moving absently through his hair. 

Finally, he rolled off her. He felt suddenly awkward, and couldn’t think of anything to say. “That was...nice,” he decided on, lamely.

She turned her head toward him, a smile playing on her lips. “It was.”

“Can I stay here?” he asked, then winced at his own words. “I mean, I kind of already told Aelin she could have the bed.”

Manon narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. “If you’d like. But if you even try to cuddle me, you’re out of this room with no clothes.”

It had barely even occurred to Dorian to cuddle Manon. She seemed so very cuddle-averse. Now, of course, that she had mentioned it, he imagined what it would be like to wrap his arms around her and sleep pressed against her. There were a lot of things he wanted to do with Manon, dirty and clean. He wondered if she’d let him, if she’d want to, as he watched her walk to the bathroom.

 

\---

 

Manon regarded Dorian. She so rarely woke up beside anyone she slept with, so rarely could she simply look at a person for so long without them knowing. Light was streaming in from the half-closed curtain, turning his brown skin golden. His eyelashes were stupidly long, and there were a few small freckles on his cheek. She should get up, she thought. Wake Dorian up, end this night. She didn’t, though. Warm and comfortable, tangled in sheets, she lay and looked at him until he woke up. 

He wore an expression of confusion when he saw her face, and she watched as he remembered where he was. Dorian smiled at her, eyes somehow both sleepy and mischievous and quirked an eyebrow, “Another round?” he asked. 

Manon rolled her eyes and turned to the bedside table to grab her phone. Moment over. “In your dreams,” she said. She checked her texts—there was a photo of Abraxos sleeping and an emoji-laden text about his well-being from Paige, her twelve year old dog sitter, and a couple photos from last night. She took longer than necessary in replying, because she wasn’t entirely sure how to act around Dorian now. It irked her that truly enjoying sex had made her feel out of control and strangely attached to him. He needed to leave. 

Dorian’s body near hers made her feel so damn claustrophobic, like she wanted to get out of bed and go as far away as possible or she’d throw herself on him again. Finally, she looked up from her phone. He was still laying on his side, watching her. His eyes looked soft when he looked at her, and Manon didn’t like this at all. 

“You can go now,” she informed him. 

“I’m staying another night at the hotel,” he said, as though he hadn’t heard her. “Have you ever gone skinny dipping?”

“I don’t see how those two thoughts are connected.”

He grinned, both cocky and patient. “If you’re also staying tonight, you could come with me.”

“Why would I do that?” she asked. They were both still naked and his eyes raked over her chest with no hint of subtlety. The hunger in his expression made her weak.

His gaze returned to her face. “Because last night was amazing, and I’m almost certain you think so too. No one’s ever gone down on you before, have they?”

Manon stiffened for a moment. Asshole. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said coolly. But she was staying another night. There was no  _ real _ reason not to sleep with him again, she reasoned with herself. Her one time only rule was simply a pattern; it could be broken. And God, it would be fun. 

Manon held out her hand to Dorian. He stared at it in confusion. “Give me your phone. Unless you’d rather make plans via carrier pigeon.” 

After she passed it back to him, Dorian looked again at her naked form and said, “I like having contact photos, can you take one?” 

Instead of glaring, Manon leaned over him and ran her finger over his jaw. His breath caught, and she felt the satisfaction and comfort of her control returning to her. Her lips brushed his ear as she said “If you don’t get out in the next two minutes, I will chew your arm off.” Then, to demonstrate, bit down on his ear lobe. 

She watched from bed, serene in the white sheets, leaning back with her hands folded over her stomach, as he got out of bed and dressed in last night’s suit. As he opened the door, she said, “See you tonight.” The grin he threw back at her was so full of mirth and excitement that Manon was taken aback. But then the door closed and he was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, this took a while! mostly because college takes a lot of my time, and also because i've never written anything ~sexy~ before and putting it out into the world was extremely nerve-wracking. 
> 
> this chapter's song (idk if anyone actually listens to these but i think it's fun): stick by banks


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> surprise surprise, manon and dorian are bad at one night stands

 

_ What time do u end lab? _

_ 5 _

_ I get off a half hour before u  _

_ You’d better not. _

_ Ha ha. I’ll get u coffee - black right? _

_ Yep. _

Manon looked at her phone for a moment more, then shook her head and put it back in her pocket. Sleeping together twice (they had indeed gone skinny dipping) had somehow turned into being regular fuckbuddies. In the last month, they’d probably seen each other close to ten times. Manon wished she didn’t enjoy it so much, but she couldn’t exactly help herself—this summer was boring, she reasoned with herself, Asterin was away, her other cousins weren’t visiting, there was no harm in letting loose a little with a man who was excessively attractive and good in bed. Neither she nor Dorian had told any of their friends—well, they knew about the first night. But not the night after that, or all the warm and lazy evenings that had followed. Manon didn’t know Dorian’s reasons for not talking about it, and figured probably they were probably similar to hers. She didn’t see people multiple times, she didn’t date, and people knew this about her. What she had with Dorian was not dating, and she didn’t want people misinterpreting it or bugging her about it.

There were rules, of course, ones Manon was more a proponent of than Dorian. No cuddling and no sleeping over. They weren’t exactly quick in and outs either, though. The first time he’d come to her place, they’d laid together after—not touching, but close as the breeze from the open window cooled the sweat on their skin. He’d suggested they do something else, watch a movie or something. Manon had not been convinced, but he had also just given her three orgasms, so she humored him by letting him look through her Netflix. They’d started watching _ The X-Files— _ or rewatching, since they’d both seen it before. Now it was sort of their after sex ritual. A few episodes, often accompanied by some takeout, and, if they were at her place, Abraxos laying across both their laps blissfully receiving scratches at both ends.

She didn’t dislike hanging out with him. He could be funny in a way she didn’t hate, he was sweet to her dog, and he was smart in different ways than she was, which made for interesting conversation. _ Just for the summer _ , she told herself. 

When she clocked out, Dorian was waiting for her in the lobby of the chem building, holding two iced coffees. He smiled when he saw Manon and held out the drink. 

“Thanks.”

Dorian eyed her outfit: jeans, sneakers, and an unbuttoned shirt over a tank top. “You’re gonna melt out there.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, “What teaching slash research assistant wears shorts? And I’m up to lab standards, I’ll have you know. ” 

“The kind that works on the top floor of an un-air conditioned building with a professor who also wears shorts.”

“You’d better not run for office looking like that.”

Dorian laughed. “I think the question now is whether or not I have sex appeal,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Manon snorted. “You have about as much sex appeal as I do right now. Which is to say very little.” She rubbed at her forehead—the goggle marks were not going away any time soon. They were walking out into the heat of the day, and she could feel the stickiness already. This summer had been relentless. 

“Lucky for you, I would be attracted to you even if you were wearing a trash bag,” he said magnanimously.

“I’ll test that out sometime.”

“I think you mean ‘I’d be attracted to you if you were wearing a trash bag as well, Dorian! You are so handsome and I can’t wait to f—’”

“I am getting less attracted to you by the minute.”

“We can go to my place. It’s closer, and Chaol’s away for a few weeks.”

“Sounds good,” she said, pulling off her button down and tying it around her waist. 

 

\---

 

Once they were inside his apartment, Dorian had her pressed against the counter, kissing and nipping a line down her neck and tugging her hair loose of its braid. He loved Manon’s hair, and the feeling seemed to be mutual, as she was always knotting her fingers through his own hair. He pulled back from her neck—she’d complained about other people in the lab giving her shit about the hickeys, so he left most marks beneath her shirt now. 

His hands slid beneath her top, caressing her skin as his tongue traced her collarbone. “Off,” she murmured. 

“Magic words?” he asked. This was a joke between them now—she would strive for the antithesis of the magic word, and he would give in anyway. She ran her hands up under his shirt as she replied.

“Mm, if you don’t put your mouth on my tits in the next thirty seconds I’ll pour ice water over your dick.” Manon said this amiably, eyes half hooded with lust.

He helped her pull her shirt off. “Good one,” he said, unclipping her bra. There was already a small collection of faded red marks on the skin of her breasts, and just the sight of them made his cock twitch. Dorian liked the idea that she could see the evidence of their encounters on her skin. He dipped his head and resumed his path down her chest. He nipped at the underside of her breast—on her it was almost more sensitive than her nipples. Her fingers slid through his hair, her nails scraping lightly on his scalp. After pressing soft kisses to all the places his teeth touched, he straightened. “Bedroom?”

“Yes.” She wasn’t one to mince words during sex, which he also liked. Dirty talk could be kept to a minimum—really, they could be silent together for quite some time, save any sounds of pleasure.

  
  


\---

 

Manon looked unfairly nice in his dark gray t-shirt, her hair up and her legs crossed beneath her. They were sitting on the couch, his open laptop sitting on the table as they watched Mulder and Scully solve a series of murders at a circus sideshow. “It’s that guy’s conjoined twin, right? Can’t he detach himself and kill people?” Manon said.

“Wow, spoilers,” Dorian said, tutting. 

Manon slid across the couch toward him. “Well, now that you know how it ends…”

He feigned shock. “Are you propositioning me?”

“Yes,” she said, sliding into his lap. He ran his hands over her bare thighs and she dipped her head to his, delicately taking his lower lip between her teeth. Dorian couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. They dissolved into sensation again. She kissed him hard, her hands on either side of his jaw as his own hands slid under her—his—shirt. He couldn’t get enough of her: the taste of her mouth, the feeling of her hands on him, the softness of her skin. 

He was busying himself with her neck and running the pads of his fingers over her nipples, teasing her and trying to find the sweet spot that would increase her panting to moaning when the door slammed open.

“Happy birthday!” shouted multiple voices at different times, which devolved quickly into apologies and exclamations.

“What the fuck?” Manon said. From the looks on his friends’ faces, they were probably also wondering what the fuck. She was still in his lap—god, his hands were still under her shirt. She seemed to realize this at the same time, shoving his arms and moving to the other end of the couch. 

“It’s not my birthday,” he managed. It was four days ago, actually. Chaol had truly pulled out all the stops—Aelin, Rowan, Aedion, Lysandra, and Yrene were all there, home from various different family events and internships. 

“That’s—that’s why it’s a surprise.” Chaol kept glancing to Manon, who looked irritated and uncomfortable. 

Aelin had her eyes narrowed at Dorian. Explanations would be demanded, and all he wanted to do was close the door and wrap himself around Manon again. Avoidance was nice, and there was no one better to practice it with than his beautiful, prickly acquaintance with benefits. But his friends were here, and he needed to shape up.

Manon broke the silence. “I’m going to get dressed. Happy unbirthday.” She got up off the couch, too proud to tug the hem of the shirt down over her underwear.  _ The X Files _ was still playing as she picked her tank top and bra up off the kitchen counter while his friends did their best to look in any other direction.

Dorian was immediately pinned with whispered questions. “Who is  _ that _ ?” Lysandra asked, looking impressed. 

“That’s Manon Blackbeak,” Aelin said. “Better question is how long you’ve been sleeping with her. I thought you two just hooked up once!”

“Uh, no—”

“Wait, are you  _ dating _ ?” Yrene asked.

“No.” Manon said flatly, emerging from his room wearing her tank top and jeans. She’d taken her hair down from its bun and was busy untangling it with her fingers. “Are you all really going to turn his birthday party into an interrogation on his sex life?” She looked amused, and Dorian was relieved that she wasn’t just annoyed at the interruption.

Aelin turned to her. “What are friends for? But excellent point, we can interrogate you instead.”

Manon rolled her eyes.“We have sex on occasion. We are both consenting adults with boring on-campus jobs that pay shit so we enjoy ourselves how we can. I’m going to go home now.”

“Stay! Have some cake, have a beer!” Chaol said. Dorian felt a rush of gratitude for him—no matter how weirded out by Dorian’s secrecy he was, Chaol was a fundamentally nice guy. Manon flicked her eyes to Dorian, silently asking if this was okay. He nodded. He didn’t want her to leave, and anyway, she was more of a stickler about what they could and couldn’t do together. Dorian wouldn’t have minded doing most anything with her. 

 

\---

Manon was sitting on the couch with Dorian was on the floor beside her, his head resting against her knee. She was mostly just watching the conversation now, after they’d asked her all the polite questions about herself—it was interesting to see Dorian with his friends. Her own circle was small, really just her cousins, who mostly weren’t around except for Asterin. Also, they were all drunk, while she was extremely sober, since she intended to drive home in a few minutes. The cake had been good, though.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?” she asked him. 

He tipped his head up to look at her with those blue eyes. “I assumed you wouldn’t care.”

She couldn’t keep her smile back, “Of course I wouldn’t care. But you seem like the type to tell me whether I cared or not.”

He kissed her knee and didn’t reply. It was really the least intimate contact they’d had all day, but the casual affection in it made her shiver. She noticed Chaol watching them closely. She met his eyes for a moment and raised an eyebrow. He looked away.

Manon flicked his head gently. “Move, I need to go home. Paige is staying at a friend’s tonight and her mom is nowhere near as good of a sitter.”

She fielded the onslaught of “It was nice meeting you”s and walked out to her car. 

Well. All his friends knew now. It was probably time hers did too. She dialed Asterin’s number and prepared for some high pitched commentary as she reversed out of the driveway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! i know updates are slower, but i will definitely not leave this unfinished.
> 
> song is talking body (bc we knew that was coming eventually)


End file.
